Memorial Moon
by ChibiQuatre
Summary: Trowa/Quatre ficcie...i think there's a lil angst on Quatre's part, but awww isn't he kawaii?! ::audience cheers:: k without further ado, here tis! review pweez? ja!!!


Memorial Moon  
by ChibiQuatre(7/17/00)  
  
  
Yet another GW disclaimer: well, do you all REALLY want me to write a disclaimer?! We all know that I don't own GW (though God KNOWS I wish I did!). The GW boyz r'nt mine, never were, never will b. They are owned by their respective creators; Sunrise, There...happy!!! ((oh, and any trouble translating the japanese, I'll b happy to help!))  
  
*NOTE: this is a yaoi, but it is NOT a lemon! i can't write lemons...i can't even get close without looking like a cherry!! so get ur mind outta da gutter! i repeat, this is NOT a lemon. got it? k good. and pleez don't flame me. i'm in no mood to read flames, although comments, questions, and suggestions r always welcome! slight angst. sorry bout the mushiness of this fic...specially towards the end. ^^* pleez rate n review minna-san! arigatou!!  
  
  
  
Quatre was standing at his window, staring at the moon.  
  
Again.  
  
It was nearly a nightly event now. After dinner, we would go into his room. He  
would look out at the night sky with a sort of profound sadness in his eyes.   
  
I would sit on his bed quietly, watching him for however long he stood there.  
Sometimes it was minutes, sometimes hours. Usually, we would talk, but lately  
he was so absorbed in his sky-gazing. His odd behavior was worrying me.  
  
"Quatre," I said softly, trying to get his attention and not disrupt the peaceful  
silence at the same time.   
  
At first, he didn't seem to hear me. But eventually he turned around. "Yes,  
Trowa?"  
  
"Come here. Sit down, you've had a hard day." It was true. We had been  
restoring our Gundams all day. He had been working especially hard at the  
repairs. Not Rashid nor I could get him to take a break. I had to finally drag him  
away from Sandrock.  
  
He obeyed my gentle command. The moment he sat down, I put my arm around  
him. His head dropped wearily on my shoulder and he sighed.  
  
"Quatre," I murmured into his ear. He fidgeted until he got comfortable in my  
loose embrace, then I continued. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Nothing," he replied sleepily.  
  
"Quatre," I breathed patiently. "Something's on your mind. I can tell. Don't you  
want to share it with me?"  
  
He didn't answer. I waited several more seconds before stealing a look down at  
my blond angel.  
  
He was asleep.  
  


***  


  
I put him to bed, tucking the quilt securely around his shoulders.  
  
I wouldn't go to bed just yet.  
  
I could watch him for hours, and I often would when he stood by his window.  
Even after he fell asleep, I would watch him. He thought I was asleep too, but no.  
I wanted to see him, to let my eyes absorb every detail of his lovely eyes and his  
kind face.  
  
Now, his face was relaxed in the sandman's grasp. All the worry and stress lined  
in his delicate features had drained away, leaving his skin smooth and flawless.  
  
I reached out and touched his cheek. It was just like a baby's skin: soft and  
semi-translucent as the moon shone down on his sleeping form. He sighed in his  
sleep and turned his head towards my hand.  
  
I smiled. You charm me even in your sleep.  
  
His breathing was soft and regular, coming in long inhalations and even longer  
exhalations. The air conditioner suddenly turned on, blowing a cool breeze  
through the vent on the ceiling. The air flowed past me and touched on Quatre's  
golden hair, barely managing to ruffle his bangs.  
  
God how I loved him.  
  
But I couldn't tell him. No, I could never tell him. I found the words too painful to  
say, no matter how badly I wanted to. For all those times he had said them to  
me, I had never told him once. I felt ashamed; he deserved to hear me say them.  
I owed at least that much to him.   
  
But if he despaired over my lack of words, he never showed it. He went on  
caring for me, loving me, and I him. He acted as if he already knew I loved him,  
he didn't need me to say it if it made me feel uncomfortable. Maybe he did know.  
  
On the other hand, his strange behavior of late had me worried. Very worried. It  
wasn't like Quatre to stare at the nothingness of the night sky in silence for hours  
on end.   
  
Maybe it's me; I should tell him I love him. I love him and there's nothing to fear.  
  
I shook my head, withdrawing my hand from Quatre's warm cheek. It just scared  
me to say the three most precious words that I knew he needed to hear.  
  
I sighed and walked around to the other side of his bed. I was about to get under  
the blankets when I changed my mind and walked over to the large glass-paned  
window, the same one where he stared out at the moon.  
  
I stood in the middle of the window, bathed in the pale moonlight shining through  
in large square beams of light, and stared at the moon exactly as Quatre had  
done.  
  
Nothing.  
  
I frowned and narrowed my eyebrows in concentration, still staring at the moon.  
Finally, I conceded to defeat as a great headache arose from between my eyes.   
  
I didn't see what Quatre got out of staring at the lunar body.  
  
Walking over to the bed, I really got into bed this time. His bed was much more  
comfortable than mine, although I've no idea why. Once when questioned, he  
had laughed and said, "I don't know what you're talking about, Trowa-kun.  
They're exactly the same bed."  
  
Maybe it was because Quatre was with me.  
  
Whatever it was, Quatre's bed was better than mine. It was softer and warmer,  
and much more comfortable all around.   
  
I almost fell asleep before I opened my eyes and took one last look at Quatre for  
the night. His mouth was open slightly. Occasionally, he would whisper  
incomprehensible words.   
  
He was so sweet.  
  
Finally, I gathered all my courage. I reached out from under the blanket and  
rubbed my hand on his forehead, bringing it down to his cheek and finally his  
chin.   
  
If I couldn't tell him when he was awake, I could do it when he was asleep.  
  
"I -- I love you."  
  


***  


  
Quatre was still asleep when I woke up. He had turned onto his stomach  
sometime or other during the night and one arm was pinned under the pillow, of  
which his head had completely fallen off of. His face was turned towards me, half  
of it pressed on his free hand, which acted as a sort of substitute pillow.  
  
I eyed him, wondering how on earth one could possibly get in such a position in  
their sleep. Shaking myself out of my silly thoughts, I got up and changed.  
Within a few minutes, I was downstairs and in the kitchen, preparing breakfast.  
  
I was scrambling eggs when Quatre walked in. "Ohayo," he said, still half asleep.   
  
He took me by surprise. I dropped three unbroken eggs on the floor and turned  
around to meet him. He had changed into his normal attire, but his blond hair  
was mussed and his eyes were still blurry with sleep.  
  
I frowned at him, however hard it was to do when one was cleaning egg off the  
floor. "Quatre," I said reproachingly, "if you're tired, you shouldn't have gotten  
up."  
  
He shook his head, partly to contradict me and partly in an attempt to fully wake  
up. "I didn't know where you were. What kind of host would I be if I left my guest  
alone?"  
  
I smiled. Quatre, as long as you're with me, I'll never be alone. His voice had lost  
its sleepy thickness. "And besides," he added as an afterthought, "your  
pancakes smell wonderful."  
  
"Arigatou," I said, but not without some pride.  
  
Suddenly, he seemed to see what his arrival had caused. "Oh, let me help you  
with that."  
  
"I got it," I answered, although really I didn't. The egg had splattered all over the  
tile, leaving a gooey and unsightly mess. The paper towel I was holding had only  
absorbed some of the yellow stuff, although it was soaked through and through.  
  
"Let me," he requested. "You should keep an eye on the other stuff."  
  
I jumped back up, remembering the other foodstuff cooking on the stove, which  
was undoubtedly burning at that very moment. Luckily, I had time to remove it  
from the burner before anything happened.  
  
I set it on the table and tried some of the egg. "Hmm, perfect," I mumbled in  
satisfaction. On my way to get us some plates, I almost tripped over Quatre, who  
was still hunched over on the floor cleaning up my mess.   
  
I stopped in the middle of the room to help him. He seemed to be having no  
trouble at all with the sticky mess. I took a handful of clean paper towels. "Use  
these," I said. He nodded, and I proceeded to retreive the plates.  
  
I turned my back on him as I opened the cabinet and pulled out a pair of  
porcelain dishes. I could feel Quatre's eyes boring into my back, but I chose to  
ignore it, missing the look he gave me.  
  
If I had seen it, I would have been stricken to the core with sadness, with the  
same look of grief that was in his pained expression.  
  


***  


  
Quatre was doing it again.  
  
This nightly moon-watching thing was going to drive me crazy. What was so  
interesting about the moon anyways? We had seen it plenty of times from space  
and I admit, it was beautiful. But it was rapidly becoming an obsession with him.  
  
I sighed, my patience wearing thin. He had been standing there for almost an  
hour now, doing nothing but staring out at the night sky: the exact thing he had  
been doing for about a week now. There was still a full moon out, but it seemed  
much dimmer. It was about to wane.  
  
I waited a few more minutes before I stood up. I couldn't take this. Something  
was bothering the Arabian, something he didn't want to talk about. But it wasn't  
healthy to keep such things bottled up. I should know.  
  
I walked until I was right beside Quatre, staring out at the moon. He didn't seem  
to even register my presence.  
  
The moon was very beautiful. I now saw that it was brighter than last night; it had  
only been fogged by light, airy clouds which had happened to pass in front of it.  
It was a frosted orb, floating in the raven black of night. It was suspended in  
space by nothing but a sheer indomitable force. It was magical.  
  
I was snapped out of the magical atmosphere by Quatre's quiet voice, which  
seemed to boom out in the overpowering silence of the dark room. "Isn't it  
beautiful, Trowa?"  
  
I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. "Aa," I answered in quiet reverence.  
  
He turned to me rather suddenly, his blue eyes darkening in seriousness.  
"Trowa, do you remember your parents?"  
  
"Nani?" I spun around to meet him face to face. What an odd question! He  
merely averted his eyes towards the stars.  
  
I stared at him. His question had reawakened an unhappiness in myself that had  
long since died. Of course I didn't remember my parents. Why should I want to?  
I thought angrily. As far as I was concerned, Katherine was my only blood  
relative. And I now had a family with the Gundam pilots, my friends.   
  
"Iie," I answered him simply.   
  
My answer caused him to lower his eyes to the ground, then back up to me. His  
voice was filled with a sorrow that was only half-expressed in his anguished  
eyes. "I don't remember, Trowa."  
  
Suddenly angry, I glared at the moon. "It doesn't matter," I said.  
  
"But it does! Of course it does." he insisted, sounding more interested in  
convincing himself than arguing with me. "It does," he repeated, softer this time.  
  
"It doesn't matter," I said, trying desperately to calm myself. For some  
inexplicable reason, I was angry. Very angry. "Your father cared about you. That  
is all that you need to know."  
  
There was a moment of awkward silence. "Mother," I heard whispered beside  
me.  
  
"What?" I turned to his face in time to see one single, lonely tear squeeze itself  
out from his closed lids and, with painstaking slowness, slide down the white  
cheek. I started in surprise. "Quatre..."  
  
"I don't even know her name," he said softly, turning his tear-filled eyes towards  
me. They weren't his eyes; they were completely blank. He stared right through  
me without actually seeing me.   
  
He continued his flat-toned monologue. "My father didn't tell me much, only that  
she died soon after I was born. And that she was a very beautiful and kind  
woman. I have her eyes, and her hair. My father said I that take after her in  
every way. I inherited her personality and her faults, but I have my father's  
dreams.  
  
"My mother..." he continued his reverie. I stared, frozen in place by his lifeless  
eyes. So lifeless. It was scary; this wasn't Quatre speaking. Quatre had left the  
building. These were his memories, his oh so very oppressive memories, talking  
through the cold shell that was the customarily vivacious Quatre.  
  
"You know," he looked back at the moon, which was starting to disappear under  
the clouds again. "The Samoans told a legend of a woman in the moon."  
  
A woman in the moon? Is that why Quatre would...  
  
"According to the myth, the mother, Sina, was out one night with her child. There  
was a famine at the time. Sina and her child were starving, they had found no  
food anywhere.  
  
"The moon looked like delicious bread, just rising over the horizon. And they  
were so hungry...Sina begged the moon to come down to Earth and let her child  
take just a bit of the moon. Just a tiny piece so that her child wouldn't starve.  
  
"The moon was insulted by her impertinent request, and she swept down to  
Earth, only to take up Sina and her child. And there they remain today, on the  
moon's surface." Quatre finished his story and looked at me expectantly.  
  
I was still in shock. So that was why Quatre stared at the moon; he was trying to  
remember. But parents weren't so important. I had gone through my entire life  
without so much as a motherly or fatherly influence. I had long decided that I  
didn't need such forces clouding my mind. I was stronger than that.  
  
But Quatre wasn't as strong as I. He needed parents, the memory of his mother  
and father. He cared about that memory. It made him just a little weaker to care  
about them.  
  
But I couldn't tell him that. Here he was, confiding in me a secret that he hadn't  
even told his own father when he was alive. I couldn't shatter what hope was left.  
  
"Quatre, why do you feel that remembering is so important?"  
  
He blinked back tears that were on the verge of falling. "I -- I don't know Trowa.  
Why wouldn't it be important?"  
  
I stared at my feet in remorseful silence. "I was raised by mercenaries and  
travelling circuses. I don't remember anything about my parents. I don't even  
know what happened to them."  
  
Quatre interrupted with a soft sigh, "Trowa."   
  
"But I don't care." I continued undaunted, ignoring his wide-mouthed gape.  
"Katherine has been a good sister. She's all the family I need for now. The past  
does not matter; only the future. The future holds the key to everything."  
  
"But Trowa, don't you want to know who your family were?"  
  
"As far as I'm interested, I have a family, one that could never be broken. The  
five of us, us Gundam pilots, we're each others' families now."  
  
Quatre looked crestfallen. Obviously, he had not expected such an answer.  
Perhaps he had wanted me to advise him some philosophical reason as to why  
family isn't important, or why it is.   
  
Or, maybe he just didn't know about my past, which was unbelievable since I told  
the very thing to Duo once. I would have expected him to blab it to all the others.  
It surprised me that he hadn't.  
  
"But Trowa..." Quatre seemed to be at a loss of words. Finally, he settled for  
hanging his head. "My family is completely gone. I have no idea where any of my  
twenty-nine sisters are. For all I know, they could have been killed already. And  
my father is -- is," he choked on the words, "my father is dead."  
  
"Quatre," I said in all honesty, putting my hands on his shoulders. "You're the  
only family I need." He looked up at me. "Won't you please let me be your  
family?" I asked, almost pleaded with him.  
  
"Trowa," he said, his voice shaky. "I -- you are my family."  
  
I pulled Quatre closer to my body until his head was resting on my shoulder. I  
could feel him shaking, trying to control the sobs that were threatening to rip  
themselves from his throat. I decided, it was time.  
  
Just like last night, I summoned all the courage in my being and braced myself. I  
was rubbing Quatre's back soothingly, as he had finally broken loose and let his  
tears flow. They continued to run down his cheek unceasingly.   
  
"Quatre," I whispered into his ear. His sobs slowed down to enough for him to  
hear me. "Quatre," I began again. So frustrating! The words were right at my  
throat, I just had to spit them out. I wish I could just come out and say it. Why is  
this so difficult for me?!  
  
He was looking at me now, waiting for me to say something. The tears were still  
running down his face and he was sniffling. I took a deep breath, determined to  
say it this time.  
  
"Quatre, I love you."  
  
His blue eyes widened unexpectedly. "T--Trowa?" he stammered. I hadn't said it  
to anyone before, not even Quatre. Then his frown curled upwards until it turned  
into a smile. Suddenly, he stepped forward into my full embrace, wrapping his  
arms around my waist and sobbing into my chest. "Trowa," he said again, with a  
certain finality to it. This time, happiness was in his voice. "I love you too,  
Trowa."  
  
For a long time, we just stood, wrapped in each others' arms, basked in the pale  
light of the moon: the moon which held so many memories for this little one. The  
moon that Quatre had both admired for its beauty and disdained for its misery.   
  
The moon that we now stood under and had finally admitted our love under...the  
very moon that watched over us as we held each other in the comfort and  
security of our arms.  
  
When Quatre finally drew back, he was still crying, though from sorrow or joy I  
couldn't tell. His eyes were sad; they had retained some of the unhappiness that  
was there before. But he was happy...he was smiling.   
  
And so was I.  
  
  
~OWARI~  
  
  
how was it minna-wa? ::blows nose on tissue:: how romantic!! ©© lol well don't just sit there! tell me whatcha thought...rate n review everyone! jaaa!! ^_~  
  
ChibiQuatre @ tigerlily6c@aol.com


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